


Hold On Tight

by SilverLynxx



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Banter, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Prompt Fic, Short & Sweet, TGS Bingo, Trapeze, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25126681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLynxx/pseuds/SilverLynxx
Summary: “That’s it, keep your grip tight.”
Relationships: Phillip Carlyle & Anne Wheeler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: TGS Bingo





	Hold On Tight

**Author's Note:**

> Since I had no fresh ideas of my own, I decided to try a prompt from TheOtherSideDiscord bingo challenge! [[Found Here!](https://theothersidediscord.tumblr.com/post/622840891292450816/)]
> 
> I also wanted to try a different focus, looking at different dynamics and characters, so will maybe experiment a bit more with that for future prompts!

“That’s it, keep your grip tight.” 

Standing in the centre ring with her hands on her hips, her head tipped back to look up to the rafters, Anne’s voice carries easily through the vacant tent. 

Phillip grimaces, the rope biting painfully into his palms as he forces his grip tighter. 

“How do you do this for so long?” he grits out.

“By knowing when to take a break.” WD answers, stepping up and mirroring his sister’s stance. “Take the rope around your ankle and between your feet, don’t rely solely on your arms to keep you up there.” 

Phillip huffs from the effort, stomach dropping alongside the inch he slips down the rope before he is able to stop himself. The burn of friction licks at his fingers which feel otherwise numb, but he clings doggedly to the thickly woven cord.

It takes a few attempts to manipulate the rope around his leg and trap it between his feet as he’d seen Anne and WD do countless times in the past, but the relief is immediate as his weight is distributed more comfortably. He releases a long heavy breath, feeling the heat of exertion burrowing deep into his shoulders.

“Alright, wonderboy, bring it back down,” WD instructs, clapping his hands to disperse the excess chalk.  
  
“I can do more!” Phillip insists. Anne laughs at his stubbornness, but her tone brooks no argument.

“Get back down here before you ruin your hands; if I find any blood on my rope you won’t hear the end of it,” she warns.

“You won’t,” WD agrees with an expression that, even from a distance, Phillip knows comes from experience.

Phillip’s brow furrows with his sullen expression, but he dutifully begins to worm his way down to join the siblings. When his feet finally touch the ground, WD takes the rope from him. The weight of his own body and the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet is almost disorientating, and WD’s clap to his shoulder almost sends him toppling forward. 

“Good job. You might even be a decent trapeze artist by the time I retire...in a good thirty years.” 

Anne shoulders her brother playfully as he laughs, and Phillip rolls his eyes good naturedly. 

“Optimistic to think you’ll still manage to get up that rope at sixty,” he counters, watching as WD begins his climb with an envious ease. 

“You know better than to encourage him,” Anne admonishes without reproach, a smile playing at the edges of her lips. “Show me your hands.” 

Like a castigated school boy preparing for the cane, Phillip bashfully offers his hands, palms turned upwards. 

Anne’s sigh says it all when she inspects the irritated red skin across his palms and fingers. There was no blood, but certainly a graze or two where it was a near thing. Her touch is light when she cups the back of his hand and tugs, leading him to the side where they keep their chalk box. 

“It’s nothing, Anne, you don’t need to fuss.”  
  
“I’m not fussing,” she rebuffs immediately, making Phillip smile at the confirmation she was _absolutely_ fussing. “You and WD are just as bad as each other,” she tuts, and Phillip sits obediently when she indicates to the nearby bench. 

“Stop smiling at me like that, Phillip Carlyle,” she warns, and Phillip does nothing to wipe the silly grin from his face as she inspects his hands again and begins applying a soothing balm. 

_“Ow.”_

“Oops.” Anne’s smile is as mischievous as it is false when she presses too hard into his tender palm, and Phillip snorts.

“And here’s to think I was defending you when WD said you were vengeful.”

Anne shrugs, smiling sweetly. “More the fool you, then, Mr Carlyle. Now, you sit pretty and watch how it’s done.”

She straightens with a wink, and sauntering to the second rope, with the grace of a swallow taking flight, she ascends. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated! <3


End file.
